


Visits from the Holy Ghost

by chaoticmelody



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:15:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticmelody/pseuds/chaoticmelody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bart is haunted by heroes from the past. He just wishes they would leave him alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visits from the Holy Ghost

"You’re not going to find anything good around here."

Bart ignores the voice and bends down again to sift through more rocks. It’s becoming more common now, these… distractions.

 

“Seriously, though. That’s just an empty guest room. I could show you where you could get some real tech.” As tempting as the offer is, Bart forgoes the advice and finds what he was looking for: the slightly melted remains of a air conditioning unit. He braces himself against the wreckage, and with a grunt, begins to pull. He can feel it creaking under the pressure, and he’s almost got it loose when a grinning face pops in front of his. With a shriek and a tremendous crash, the unit rips off the wall, and he’s sent careening across the ground.

 

“So you can see me. I was beginning to think you were like the others. Hopeless.” With a groan, Bart picks himself up, rubbing his stinging palms, and wincing at the blood running down his leg. 

“You okay down there, kid?” 

“I’m fine! I got the unit, I’m coming up!” It’d taken weeks for his work crew to find this spot, marked only by a chink in the rocks, and he was going to let one of them mess up the biggest find in months.

It continues to float lazily by his head as he wraps the rope around the unit and gives it tug. If one of them must be around, he’d rather it be the girl. She may be more in your face, but at least he doesn’t have to listen to her talk. She’s never told him, but he guesses it must be because of the nasty neck wound. 

The climb is steep, and it doesn’t help that it finds it necessary to sit on top of the unit as Bart pushes up through the narrow and jagged crack. It won’t stop talking, but he doesn’t want to give it the satisfaction of him admitting he can hear it. 

“Raquel used that room from time to time. At least, I think so. Sometimes everything just gets blurry.” It frowns and rubs at its temple, causing fresh wave of blood to drip down its face. Bart grimaces at the sight, but it doesn’t seem to notice the bullet hole in its head. It just flicks its tail and keeps talking.

He can see sunlight, green tinged as it passes through the thing that insists on bothering him, and some hands reach down and help him up. It leaps off the salvaged unit and gently floats to the ground. One of the older workers pushes right through it, and claps Bart on the shoulder.

 

“Good job kid. Anything else down there worth much?” Bart shrugs, and tries to ignore the fact that it is currently halfway through the man’s chest.

 

“There was a couple cracks in the wall that might lead to other rooms, but I’m not sure if I’m small enough to fit.”

“I could fit for you, if you want. But I’m telling you, it would be a waste of time. I know a better place.” It bursts out of his chest, fangs glinting in an attempt to scare him, but Bart manages to hold back all emotion. 

Someone passes him a flask of water, and he guzzles it gratefully as the rest of his work crew help prepare that day’s salvage for inspection. It floats upside down in front of him, and the urgency in its voice hurts him.

“Please, Bart. You don’t understand. There’s something really important we have to show you, and you don’t have much time. I know you can hear me, I know you can see me. PLEASE.” It reaches out as if to grab him and shake some sense into him, but its fingers slip right through his shoulders. He shudders a bit at the numb feeling that comes with the touch, but he continues to avert his eyes. If he doesn’t acknowledge it, if he doesn’t get attached to it , maybe it will go away.

He hears the worried murmuring of the others, and he can see Blue Beetle approaching. Something in his face must have alerted it to the figure stomping his way over, because it whips around, and its eyes widen in horror. It shakes in pure terror, and with a panicked scream, the ghost of Garfield Logan disintegrates and blows away over the wreckage of Mt. Justice. 

It’s not a good day, because he finds another one hovering a few inches over his bedroll. He- It’s one of the harder ones to ignore. After all, it’s not every day he gets visited by a dead celebrity.

The Boy Wonder’s cape flutters in the non-existent wind, and it looks serene, despite the gaping hole in its chest. He warily skirts around it, and sits down to finish his meal. It’s strange seeing this ghost. After all, everyone’s heard the whispered stories about the dynamic duo when the Reach wasn’t listening. Part of him wants to ask him so many questions, but his sensible side kicks in.

Just ignore him- it. It’ll go away soon, vanish and then you’ll be safe. You can keep your head down, and maybe you’ll live long enough for things to change.

 

He digs into the Reach enhanced food, thankful that their haul has managed to secure a good food supply, for now. He’ll have to watch his back extra carefully, but as long as he stays alert and able to fit into the tunnels and cracks beneath the rubble, he’ll at least live a while longer. And that’s all he can ask for.

 

It waits patiently for him to finish eating before it starts to speak.  
“Gar told me you don’t listen to him.” Its form flickers rapidly, and it screws up his face in concentration in order to stay there.

“Look. I can’t stay here long. I don’t have as much as a tether here as Gar does. You need to pay attention. I know he’s not all there, but to be frank, none of us are.” Bart pretends to scrape the bottom of the bowl for any last morsels, but Tim Drake isn’t falling for it. There is a gust of wind and the bowl is violently ripped from his hands. It’s a bit ironic that the only non-meta ghost developed the poltergeist abilities, but it manages to calm itself down and doubles its efforts on keeping its form.

“We’ve been doing our best to protect you, but we can’t do it forever. There’s something important we need to tell you. A reckoning is coming, and you’re going to have make a choice.” At that, Bart looks up, horrified. It stares back at him, and it looks… sad. It hugs its cape closer to itself, and for a second, Bart realizes that none of them are much older than him. They’re just dead.

He opens his mouth, about to break his personal rule, (Never speak to them, never get involved.) but it ripples, and with what sounded a bit like swear, it blinked out, probably sent back to Gotham, where it screams for its brothers and hurls things at the empty city.

It’s good it’s gone, he thinks to himself. You have to be more vigilant. Don’t get too close.

 

Another one shows up when he goes to collect water. It just pops out at him, all red eyes and scorched fins. He recognizes plasma cannon burns when he sees them, and internally winces as it calls to him from the water.

“C’mon in, chum. I promise I’m not a monster. I won’t hurt you.”

Bart wills himself to go faster, not fast enough to set off the collar or let it know he’s running away from it, but enough to get away.

“PLEASE!” It yells, and its voice is full of loneliness. “We just want to help you! I didn’t mean to scare you! I’M NOT A MONSTER!”

Its voice soon fades, and Bart collapses behind a tent, shaking.

 

“I can’t do this, I can’t do this. Why won’t they leave me alone?” His voice cracks, and he curls in on himself, allowing himself a rare moment of weakness. After all, it won’t follow him.

Lagoon Boy never leaves the water.

 

The descent feels wrong. It swirls around him, all ephemeral blond hair and long limbs, urgency in its face as it whispers words that bubble up into sprays of blood on its lips. He slides down the crevice into the room he was in yesterday, and it follows him, hands reaching out to pull him back. He slips through them and squeezes into another crack. The slabs of stone creak and moan as the weight of the mountain pushes on them, but they’ve held for forty years. They can hold for another day. He meanders over rivulets of water and under sharp crags of rock and dust dribbles from the ceiling. The collar chafes, and he has never wished it off so badly as he does now, maneuvering the underground ruins, (almost) alone. 

He gives three long pulls on the rope around his waist, code for “I’m alright, but I need more rope.” It’s his lifeline, this rope, tying him back to the surface, showing him the way out. Family and friendship sounds wonderful, but if something happens, or if he doesn’t check in, they won’t think twice about cutting it. 

He turns a corner and enters the next salvageable room. Faded paint on the chunks of rock and what could be part of a wardrobe mark the room as lived in, which could mean plenty of useful junk. He roots through the rubble on the floor, and it drifts through him, leaving him cold and numb. His fingers tremble at the sensation, and worry lines its face as it places its hands on his. 

That was when the mountain shivered.

It was just a little movement, but it was more than enough. Dust obscures his vision, and he staggers to his feet, coughing and too pathetically slow. Next thing he knows he’s on his face, and blood is dripping down his face into his nose and mouth, and he’s stuck. 

He knows what’s going to happen. He’s already done for.

There’s something heavy leaning on his back, trapping his lower body against the ground. Panic fills his voice as he scream as struggles. It pulls itself through another pile of rocks, and dashes over to where he is. For the first time in his life, he’s happy to see it.

“Please,” He croaks out. “I don’t want to die.” It’s face contorts in pain, and it stands up and starts to move away.

“Don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone.” It looks back and him, and vanishes.

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE!” He screams at it, his voice breaking, and he feels tears starting to mix with the blood on his face.  
There is only silence, and Bart is truly alone.

“You didn’t want to die, either, did you.” He whispers. It- no, she. She’s gone, but he’s ready to talk now. “All of you were alive, once. Barely older than me, but you died. Brave strong heroes, with superpowers, but you couldn’t do anything but be killed.” He laughs a little, the hysteria kicking in. He’s stopped struggling now, after all, the movements are futile.

“What did you want me to do about it? I can’t do anything. You couldn’t either. He killed you all, murdered you in brutal, awful ways.” More dust drips from the ceiling, and he begins to cough.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry it happened to you. I sorry you got hurt, I’m sorry you’re curse to stay with my sorry ass. But I can’t worry about you. I have to keep living. I can’t let you drag me down with you.”   
Another chunk of rock lands on the load on his back , and he screams, flattened.

“You don’t understand, you useless ghosts! I can’t be weak. I can’t waste my time helping you, or anyone else. THAT’S HOW YOU DIE!” The words are stinging, and echo around him. “That’s how you died. You were just too good. You never thought of yourself, just jumped in and got killed.”

The blood loss and pain are getting to him, and everything is growing faint.

“At least you fuckers died with a purpose.”

Hands reach out and cradle his head, and he can feel the weight being lifted from his back. Cold hands that smell like burning flesh bring him water, and help him to stand. He leans onto a caped shoulder, and soft furry arms curl around him.  
“Shh. We’re here. We’re always here.” 

He can’t remember the climb back, just fragments of blood and pain, shocked faces, and a cut rope. The only clear memory is Blue Beetle big and imposing, ready to dispose of him, a useless injured slave. He’ll never forget the look and his face when he sees them, his phantom protectors. It’s angry, but just for a second, he thinks he can see Jaime Reyes. He reaches out to them, just a terrified teenage boy whose body and life was stolen away by the same monster who killed his friends.  
Bart’s life is filled with lost souls.

 

They come for him a week later, whispering and tugging as his clothing, willing him forward. He guesses they used up a lot of their energy in order to save him, and to actually interact with him, but he knows they wouldn’t leave him.

“I guess there’s no going back to the simple times, is there?” He sighs, and they give him some knowing looks and urge him on. He follows them to the edge of the water, where the crater drops off into craggy rocks wet from the sea. Their feet are sure and steady on the slick rocks as they lead him down a path they’ve been walking for decades before he arrived at the camps. Gar beckons him into a small cave, and they crawl, water licking at his knees and palms. Tim helps him up, his poltergeist form semi-solid but cold.

 

"Welcome to the grotto.” Bart wanders over, their dead eyes watching him as he examines the blown out walls and lonely half-melted pedastals. He bends down, and examines the only visible engraving. Artemis.

“What is this place?” It’s Lagoon Boy who answers, this time.

“A memorial.” The grief in his voice is thick.

 

“But you’re… dead. Can’t you see them again?” Cassie shakes her head.

“We’re like you,” Gar explains. “Trapped, waiting for our life, well, afterlife to start. None of us can move on. but you…” 

He understands. “I’m keeping you here.”

“You’re still alive, which means you still have a chance. You have a chance to do something we never could. You could make everything better.” 

Bart doesn’t look up from the memorial. He hugs his knees to his chest, but none of them make a move to comfort him.

“Tim’s been stockpiling some stuff from the Batcave in here. Tomorrow there will be a slave transport here, and someone special will arrive with it. You’re going to have to make a choice.” Cassie plops down beside him, and Bart looks away.

“We all made this choice, when we still lived. It’s going to be hard, and you’ll have to give up everything.” Tim joins him on the ground, and La’gaan follows. 

“But you’ll have a purpose. You could make a difference. Change something.” 

Their hands slip through his shoulders in an attempt to make him feel better, and it does, in a way. It reminds him that he isn’t alone.

“Will you be with me?”  
Gar smiles at him, and walks over to where they’re all huddled. “Of course. Maybe not quite how you know us now, but we’ll always be with you.”

Bart is haunted, but it’s better than being alone.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was bugging me all week, so after torturing my friends with it, I sat down and actually wrote it. I whipped it out really fast, or me, and it’s actually really long. Title is taken from a Neon Trees song I was listening to on repeat as I wrote it.


End file.
